


art is the only way to run away

by ishipthat



Series: Sterek Drabbles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feels, Fluffy, Laura Hale Feels, M/M, Pre-Slash, paint fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:11:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipthat/pseuds/ishipthat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles arrives at Derek loft one Saturday night only to find him painting his bedroom. A paint fight promptly follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	art is the only way to run away

**Author's Note:**

> Title; Art is the only way to run away without leaving home - Twyla Tharp.  
> This was meant to be a quick drabble but it became a lot more feelsy than I intended. Thinking of carrying on with some porn and more feels if anyone's interested??  
> ~ Jake  
> ((Update: proof read but not beta read))

Derek had been living in the loft for almost a year now. Supernatural disasters had been and gone, pack meeting held upon Scott’s request, and memories made despite Derek’s determination to not get attached to Beacon Hills again.

Stiles arrived late one Saturday night - Scott had ditched him for some weird three-way date with Isaac and Allison, and Stiles hadn’t pressed for details - to find boxes stacked in the middle of the central loft space. No one had really come up with a suitable name for it yet, but that was besides the point. Stiles was starting to freak out because apparently Derek was moving. Again.

"Derek," He leapt up the staircase two steps at a time, shouting across the empty space of the loft. "Where are you?"

He found Derek in his bedroom - noticeably _empty_ bedroom - in nothing but a pair of old jeans. “What the-” He spotted the paintbrush in his hand when Derek turned to look at him. “Dude, who the hell paints shirtless?”

Derek just huffs and throws him a paintbrush, which Stiles half catches against his chest at an awkward angle. “Don’t want to ruin any of my shirts.” He grunts, as if it was totally normal to be painting half-naked on a Saturday night. Stiles takes a moment to morn his forgotten plans with Scott to see the new Robocop.

Deciding that his zombie cupcake t-shirt is too valuable to ruin, Stiles gets shirtless too. He’s not worried about his jeans since he’s had them for years now and somehow not grown out of them. He doesn’t even think about being self conscious in front of Derek, even though Derek is built like a porn star and Stiles is practically a toothpick.

"Did you really think-" Derek pauses when he catches sight of Stiles’ chest, a pale expanse of creamy skin spattered with moles and a happy trail that lead Derek down an unexpectedly distracting path.

"Did I really think what?" Stiles asks absently, dipping his paintbrush in the open tin by Derek’s feet and crouching down to inspect the colour.

Derek shakes his head and continues painting neatly around the light switch. “Did you think I was moving out? You came in and started freaking out, when you saw the boxes… your heartbeat…” He trails off when he realizes how much attention he’d been paying to Stiles when he walked in, how he knew it was him by the sound of his footsteps, the way his hearing trained straight to Stiles’ heart.

"I just assumed. It’s not like you’ve got a great track record when it comes to informing me- _us_ of when you skip town.” He’s trying to keep his voice neutral but it wavers slightly when he trips over his words. “Why orange? That’s such a bizarre colour for a bedroom.”

Derek ignores the abruptness of the subject change. “Laura’s room used to be orange. She was really big on Chicago Bears.” He laughs under his breath, remembers the conversation she’d had with their mom when she chose orange instead of dark blue. She argued that dark blue was too obvious.

"Why now?" Stiles coughs and dips back down to get more paint, accidentally dripping some on Derek’s bare foot. "Shit." Derek doesn’t bat an eyelid though, and seems far too occupied with making sure the paint doesn’t get onto the plastic to care. "Why paint it now? You’ve been here a year and all you’ve done is buy minimal IKEA furniture and get rid of the mold problem."

He sighs and doesn’t answer Stiles, knows that the answer is too complicated for him to word without making him seem utterly emotionally constipated. When Stiles turns to look at him he shrugs and says “Just felt like a change.”

Silence spans between them for a few minutes and Stiles is making real progress on his area of the wall. Then he feels something cold and wet run down the side of his face. He squeaks and turns to Derek in shock. “What the hell, dude?”

"Payback." He stares at Stiles with a placid expression, but Stiles can tell he dying to crack a smile. "For my foot." He points at the smear of paint on his big toe.

"Oh, you’ve asked for it now. Don’t blame me if this goes horribly wrong." And with that Stiles swishes his paintbrush through the air, splattering orange across Derek’s stubbled jaw. He growls in response and lunges for Stiles, paintbrush catching a line from his bellybutton to his shoulder.

Stiles lets out a breathy laugh, trying to dodge Derek with little success, and manages to get his inner thigh at an awkward angle. After what feels like an hour and almost half a tin of paint later, they’re splayed out on the wooden floor. They laid side by side, panting in the low evening light, and trying to catch their breath around bursts of laughter. There’s paint just about everywhere, excluding the majority of the walls, and Derek knows he’ll need to buy a ladder to repaint the ceiling.

"You know, I kind of like it like this." Stiles props himself up on one elbow. "If you repaint that wall blue or something, like the Bears, it’d be pretty funky."

"Stiles, it looks like a pre-schoolers art project." Admittedly, he is rather fond of it. He never liked rooms being one colour, much less when the paint damaged with age. "You know what, screw it." He forgets all about buy a ladder and praises his indecision which lead him to buying both orange and blue paint.

He leaves the smudge on the light switch where Stiles’ paint covered hand had collided with the wall trying to escape Derek’s paintbrush. And when Stiles leaves later that night, Derek presses his own painted thumb above Stiles’ print.


End file.
